


The Man On The Bridge

by LokiNeedsHugs1031



Series: Stucky Ficlets [17]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artist Steve Rogers, Bathing/Washing, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bubble Bath, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America Fix It, Captain America: Winter Soldier fix it, Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hair Washing, Hurt, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Bucky Barnes, Past Torture, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Sleepy Cuddles, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stucky - Freeform, Torture, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, brain washing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiNeedsHugs1031/pseuds/LokiNeedsHugs1031
Summary: Steve Rogers rescues Bucky from Pierce just after the fight on the bridge. FIX IT FIC
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Stucky Ficlets [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/807915
Comments: 10
Kudos: 207





	The Man On The Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw a post in my Stucky group and needed some fix it hurt/comfort so here it be!

“That man. On the bridge…” The Winter soldier began, his eyes feeling too full and too warm and everything around him was too much. “I knew him.”

He wanted to cry. There was something deep down in his chest that ached, ached in a way he hadn’t experienced before. Or maybe he had. But he could remember pale blue eyes and Irish freckles. Soft skin, smaller body of that man he saw on the bridge. Yes, he knew him. He knew him and something told him he _loved_ him.

“I knew him,” he repeated and he was slapped. Hard. Tears sprung forth again and he gripped the chair with his fists. He clung to the distant memories that plagued him, far away and so comforting. He swallowed a sob like vomit.

“Wipe him.” a voice said.

“He’s been out of cryo too long we can’t.”

“Wipe him!” the voice screamed.

He wasn’t even sure why but he knew that he must comply, his chest felt tight and his throat was thick.

He desperately wanted to be sick but he knew that he must be commanded to do such a thing even as simple as it was.

“I knew him.” And now he was crying, as the men in white coats moved forward and prepared to force a piece of plastic in his mouth. He leaned back in the reclining chair every part of him wanting to scream and fight. “Why won’t you let me see him? Can I see him? Before we do this? I promise. I promise I’ll forget just let me…see him…I-I need…”

There were flashes of snow and blood. So much blood and that man screaming for him. Screaming for Bucky.

“Because,” the man in the expensive suit spoke, “You are not allowed. You have always been ours. Do you understand that? You are a tool.” the man spat, “You are not a person and you never will be. We’ll wipe away what you know just like we did before. Like we always have.”

The soldier bit down on the plastic placed in his mouth, tears pouring uselessly down his flushed and bruised cheeks and he waited. Because it didn’t matter what he didn’t remember but this he remembered. Pain. Pain to erase the love and memories of the man on the bridge.

He closed his eyes and waited. Waited for the surge of electricity to fill every crevice of his being. But then there was an explosion. The walls crumbled around him but he didn’t dare move. He wasn’t allowed to, not commanded to, ordered to.

“Buck?” he heard when the dust settled. He didn’t know that, or at least he didn’t think he knew that. He couldn’t, that was too human of a word. Buck. Spoken with such affection.

He stayed frozen in place. The plastic, sick and fake between his teeth, eyes forward as the world exploded around him.

“Buck,” that beautiful voice said again, and then there was a palm on his forehead, not forceful, not holding him down. Soft. Loving. The plastic was pulled from his teeth and the restraints were removed hurriedly. “Oh honey…” it started. But then the world around them rattled again loudly. “We need to get you out of here, do you remember me?”

The Winter Soldier wanted to speak, deep down he wanted to speak but he couldn’t, all he could do was cling as the blue-eyed man released him from the restraints of the machine that would wipe it all out. “On the bridge…you were on the bridge. I knew you. I know you. On the bridge.” he murmured.

“Yes, on the bridge, I’m Steve, do you remember me? Steve Rogers?”

“Steve,” he uttered, swallowing hard and holding on just as fiercely, memories collided like rocks. “You used to be smaller…Stevie…”

And ‘Steve’ smiled, “I know…and lucky that I’m not anymore cause I’m gonna take you out of here.”

“Out of here?” he uttered, flashes of pain running up his back and legs and heart plummeted him to the chair he was attached to.

“Yeah sweetheart, we’re getting you out of here. They’re all dead, no one will ever hurt you again.”

The soldier sobbed, truly began crying without warrant, falling fully against Steve’s chest, “Where is home…I wanna go home…”

“Home is with me Buck. Or at least I hope. Do you remember me?”

The soldier stopped to think, “You like pancakes….and you draw…I always kept you safe because…you’re tiny…or you were tiny. You started fights you shouldn’t have…”

“That’s right,” Steve said, “That’s right you were always there to protect me but now I’m taking care of you. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what safe was anymore. He hadn’t known it for years, maybe even longer than that but Steve was checking them into a very nice motel. There was a bed, that was all he needed, and Steve was leading him to said bed. It was softer than anything he remembered and the room was warm. Oh, warm. What a concept, it was already making him sleepy against his will.  
“You sit here, okay? I’m gonna get some first aid. Sam, he got us some bandages but I think you might need more than that. You feel up to a bath?”

“I don’t like cold water. I’m fine,” he answered without really thinking.

“Oh, sweetheart, it wouldn’t be cold. I’m talking about a _hot_ bath. You’re really tense and I know you don’t seem to have any outward injuries but I can feel how locked up you are.” Steve began, “I wanna take care of you. It won’t be cold water. I want you comfortable enough to sleep. You think you can sleep? You do remember me, right?”

“Stevie,” Buck said again, nodding, tears falling from his eyes and his chest hiccupping again. A memory lurched forward and he was spatting, “Baby doll I’m sorry.” he sobbed. “Oh God I’m so sorry.” He found himself clutching at Steve’s arms, “I hurt you I never, ever, wanted to hurt you and I did.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve intervened, cupping Bucky’s face in both warm palms, “You were brainwashed I would never think in a million years that you would hurt me. Get that through your brain right now, got it? I know you would never hurt me.”

Bucky sobbed, slumping forward fully against Steve’s chest, “I always said I’d protect you and you have bruises because of me.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve murmured, holding Bucky close, “Stop, please stop, you would never hurt me. Ever. Ever. You would never knowingly hurt me.”

“How can you say that?” Bucky spat.

“Because that’s the hand we’ve been dealt.” Steve spoke with resolution, “Let’s get you cleaned up and then into bed. How’s that sound?”

Bucky nodded soundlessly and allowed Steve to undress him. He was still shirtless and his metal arm was still not working properly but he was with it enough for Steve to lead him into the bathroom.

“Into the tub, come on, I’ll get you cleaned up and then you can sleep. You really need it.” Steve spoke softly, and the air was humid and sweet smelling. This wouldn’t be a quick and horrible wash ordered by Hydra, nothing with a hose or delousing powder. With as much care as Bucky had ever experienced Steve urged him into the bathtub. He sank down into the water with a low groan, it was wonderful.

“That okay?” Steve asked, lifting a wash-cloth and running it over his back.

He nodded, not knowing what else to say. He was bombarded with memories that were so similar to this right now. Only Steve was small and sick and _he_ was bathing Steve, nursing a fever. He was brought out of said memories when he felt fingertips against his scalp. Oh, it felt good. He couldn’t remember when the last time he was touched so gently.

“All clean,” Steve said, fingers still combing through his hair, “Ready for bed?”

It was robotic he knew, disassociating was nothing new, but he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed while the beautiful blonde, blue-eyed man dressed him. Sweatpants, worn and soft up his legs and a warm hoodie pulled over his head. He was never allowed this comfort. Ever.

“You think you can sleep?” Steve was asking again.

“I don’t know…” Bucky began, swallowing roughly and working his fingers against the clean sheets at his palm, “I-I feel lost….”

And that beautiful man frowned sitting beside him and only now did he notice he was dressed down as well. No armor. No uniform. No weapons. But soft and dressed in pajamas that left little to the imagination. “How about we lay down here,” he gestured towards the bed, “And I’ll tell you a story…”

He didn’t know why he complied, but he did, wholeheartedly. He shimmied backwards on the bed and was guided underneath the sheets. Without asking he hurried against Steve’s chest and it only felt right. When he wasn’t denied he wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and closed his eyes tight.

“Once upon a time,” Steve started, voice low and soft, “There were two little boys that lived in Brooklyn. They loved each other very much. They played ball together and never missed a baseball game on the radio. The older of the boys never let the other feel small like he already felt. He always defended him against bullies and when the little one had bad days the older one always bought him ice cream sodas to cheer him up. When the younger one’s mama died the older one never let the younger one sleep alone. He worked extra hours to keep him in art school and whenever the younger one was feeling particularly sad, no matter how old they were, he always made sure there was ice cream sodas.”

Bucky wasn’t even sure why he was crying, but he was, loud and guffawing against Steve’s chest. “I-I wish we were them again…”

“We always will be,” Steve said, kissing Bucky’s temple, then his cheek, before carefully placing a kiss on his lips, “I promise.” Steve pulled the covers up around them as the television droned on in the backroom, his long, rough fingertips went up and down, up and down his back before snaking into his hair where they teased the nape of his neck. “I love you and I’ll do anything I can to protect you. Then is no different than now.”

Bucky only wanted to sleep, and Steve continued his story of the older and younger boy and their devotion to one another. And for a small and quiet moment. That world existed so calmly and softly.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review!


End file.
